The Bonds that Keep Us
by Balefire1
Summary: As forces march against Gondor, Aragorn and Legolas erupt in an argument that ends their friendship. But when hope is lost, a seemingly broken bond calls for one more sacrifice-who will pay it? *FINISHED*
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Bonds that Keep Us  
  
Characters: Aragorn/Legolas Not Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13 (character death)  
  
Summary: As the last great army of Sauron makes a final comeback against Gondor, Aragorn and Legolas erupt in an argument that seems to end their friendship. But when all hope is lost, their seemingly broken bond calls for one more sacrifice - who will pay it  
  
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Disclaimer: The usual. no, I don't own any of these characters =)  
  
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Author's Notes  
  
  
  
A lot of the stuff in this story probably contradicts with the books, but hey, it's fanfiction, right?? For example, I know that Legolas and Aragorn are OOC at times, but cut me so slack! I just hope you'll ignore any minor errors and like the story anyway! But if you feel there are any HUGE mistakes that you think need to be revised, just fill me in and I'll do what I can =)  
  
Anyways, this is my first LotR story, so don't be too hard, alrighty? OK then, onwards!  
  
  
  
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Chapter 1: Farewell to Hope  
  
  
  
A light shimmer arose from the East as the moon and stars faded with hesitance. The bright sun, a sphere of molten gold, peeked over the wooded horizon. The tall gleaming towers of Gondor seemed to brush the various shades of pink and purple that streaked the dawn sky. Banners shifted and waved though the air as a light breeze teased the fine fabric. It was a picture to behold - the famed Gondor in tranquil perfection of that perfect morning - if the tension was not so heavy in the crisp atmosphere.  
  
King Elessar stood in his chamber by the window with one foot propped up against the wall behind him. His face was of one who had not slept in many a night; lines of tense worry and stress marred his features, and his gray eyes were troubled. They were fixed on the thick stone Gates and the hope he prayed they would bring this day.  
  
A light cantering sound of a horse's hooves caught his attention. As the sounds grew closer and louder, the Gates of Gondor slowly opened to admit it's most recent guest. Elessar allowed himself a small, relieved smile at seeing the golden-haired rider, and for a moment, the disturbing concern in his eyes was dulled. Turning his back on the arched window, Elessar hurried from his room and towards the main hall.  
  
Just as he skidded onto the finely gilded floors of the main chamber, his new guest entered from the opposite door from the courtyard outside. The two stared each other for the briefest of moments.  
  
Then, with a mischevious grin, the newcomer tackled the King of Gondor. For the next ten minutes, the sounds of their laughter echoed through the halls.  
  
"Legolas, you barbarian," Aragorn gasped as he rolled away from his friend, "This is the palace of Gondor, not the woods of Imladris! -That, and we are no longer children!"  
  
Legolas laughed musically as he pinned Aragorn in a headlock.  
  
"Don't be such a spoil-sport, my friend, you are very much a child compared to one of my years."  
  
"It seems to me that as you get grow older, your wits grow dimmer!" Aragorn growled before flipping the Prince of Mirkwood over his head.  
  
Legolas slid almost to the other end of the room, still laughing. His sat up and, resting his hands on his knees, watched Aragorn dust himself off with mirth shining in his blue eyes. The former Ranger mumbled to himself as he adjusted his clothes, and Legolas could hear snatches of ".indecency." and ".moronic elf..."  
  
"You know, Estel, you should feel lucky that I'm here to give you some excitement, with all the "properness" in this boring old place." Legolas said, his eyes twinkling.  
  
Aragorn could not withhold a chuckle of delight, "Right you are, my friend, but all the same, I sometimes don't know how to deal with your incessant foolishness!"  
  
Legolas grinned, "What are friends for?"  
  
"When I find out, I'll be sure to tell you." Aragorn replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
Now on his feet, the golden-haired archer moved to stand across from his friend. Aragorn looked up into his eyes and for a few minutes, they shared the quiet humor they always managed to create together. Then, the man's eyes grew somber once again and he spoke in a softer, serious tone that was so polar from the loud, joking voice he had just been using.  
  
"Tell me, mellon nin, what news from Mirkwood?"  
  
Legolas too turned serious.  
  
"Come, my friend. we must talk."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"What!?!?"  
  
"Please, you must understand, Aragorn!" Legolas pleaded at Aragorn's furious reaction to his news. "While I understand why you must feel betrayed and very obviously shocked, you must consider that they no longer have the strength to hold on to Middle-Earth!"  
  
Aragorn's dark hair flew upwards as he turned his head viciously towards his friend. "No strength!? By the Valar, Legolas, your people are Mirkwood Elves! They have been able to defend themselves for thousands of years, and yet they cannot stand to fight one more battle!?"  
  
Legolas sighed. "I beg you, Aragorn."  
  
"No! Do you not understand?? The last armies of Sauron will be here in less than three months - I do not have the time to sit here and debate this with your people!" With those words, he slammed an open palm down on the mohagony desk. He closed his eyes. ~Calm down.~ When he opened his eyes again, his voice was strained, but controlled.  
  
"I had been so confident that Mirkwood would honor our old alliance, and if not that, then at least the friendship between Gondor's King and their own Prince! If Gondor does not have Mirkwood's aid, then it will be in a very sorry state, indeed. Our men are not enough Legolas. we need help. We need your help. We cannot possibly resist Sauron's forces alone."  
  
Legolas' sapphire eyes were fixed on the desk, though he was not looking at it. His dark brows were knitted in concern and a little frustration. He did not look up when he answered.  
  
"I. I understand their decision, Aragorn. At the council in Mirkwood that decided whether we would aid Gondor or not, I tried my best to persuade them to ally with you. -But when they did not. I did not push it." He looked up then to stare into his friend's surprised eyes. "The sea calls them. The Havens call them. They cannot find it so simple a task to stay when they are called."  
  
Aragorn sputtered in his rising temper - Legolas interrupted him.  
  
"Come now Aragorn. there must be others you can send for. Rivendell, of course, and Rohan will answer the challenge! Dispatch messengers to Gimli's kin. he would never hesitate to aid you. -And Lothlorien! Light, you have so many choices, why must you focus all your hope and all your disappointment on Mirkwood?"  
  
Aragorn spun away from the table and stalked to the window.  
  
"Ilutvitar, Legolas! Imladris and Lorien are fading, there are hardly any left there to make any army at all. My father would send all that he could, but even he is growing wary of battles and of Middle-Earth. I would never wish to cause him more grief. Rohan, even after all these years, is still recovering from Helm's Deep. The men lost and the emotional scars gained will keep them from wanting to fight another war any time soon. Gimli's kin. his personal alliance with us was only because of the Quest. The rest of his kind do not look so affectionately upon Humans or Elves, and you know they would not willingly come. No, Legolas. Mirkwood is all I have."  
  
Legolas frowned and ran his slender fingers along the desk edge absentmindedly.  
  
"There must be some other option."  
  
Aragorn felt the fire in his veins flowing quicker, as much as he tried to control it. These elves of Mirkwood were his friends! They had fought and died together in the past, and now, when he needed them most, they would simply abandon him and his people?  
  
He could not keep the disdain from his voice, "How can your people leave Middle-Earth when their friends so desperately call for their aid?" he growled, "I would have aided them had it been they who called!"  
  
"I do not doubt it!" Legolas felt his own voice rising. "But you mortals never need worry about the call of the sea!"  
  
"Will you stop talking about your precious Havens!? That is of no importance concerning this issue! We are talking of war, not your peoples' wistful desires!"  
  
"Wistful desires!? We elves are not like you! We cannot control these feelings, Aragorn, and you must learn to understand that!"  
  
"I cannot be so quick to understand your kind's idiocy on these matters! Then again, what I truly do not understand is how Mirkwood could be so traitorous as not to come and help!  
  
Now it was Legolas' turn to slam his open fist into the table. "Traitorous!" he yelled, fire igniting in the depths of his eyes. "Do not dare to call the people of my kingdom traitorous! How many times must I tell you!? This is not our fight! When the sea calls us, we feel nothing but the desire to leave this cursed place! We should not feel obligated to fight Gondor's battles!"  
  
Aragorn's head shot up and his eyes narrowed slightly.  
  
"We? When did "they" become "we"? So it comes to this, Legolas. you are leaving, too! You were never planning to stay here and fight! How is it so, brother, that you would desert me at the time of my greatest need!?"  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood narrowed his eyes, as well.  
  
"For one thing, I identify myself with them because they are my people, and I too am called by the sea! Secondly, how dare you accuse me of deserting you? Of course I was going to stay! I have always remained faithful to you and stood by your side. Have you no gratitude, or has all this power of King gotten to your already challenged head?!?"  
  
Aragorn snapped.  
  
"You claim you would have stayed, yet you speak such obvious contradiction!!" his voice rose and acquired a tone that was becoming more and more furious. "I have no need for prissy woodland elves who exhibit even the slightest hesitation!"  
  
"FINE!" Legolas yelled, eyes flashing. His hands curled into fists that he had difficulty in keeping by his sides. "If you have no need of me or my people, I WILL leave!"  
  
"Leave then! Go back to your traitorous people and tell them the King of Gondor does not need, nor want, their aid! Go back, Legolas to your precious woods and build your precious ships and sail away as Gondor is overrun! GO!"  
  
Legolas' chest rose and fell with heavy breaths of fury. Ignoring the part of him that cried pain at this disagreement, all he saw and felt was the fiery wrath that enveloped him. Without a word, the golden archer spun on his heel and threw open the chamber door. Aragorn fumed with his hands tightly clenching the pommel of his sword until he heard the last of Legolas' angry footsteps.  
  
~Fine! If he wishes to go, then he may go! I don't need him nor Mirkwood in this battle! I should never have trusted. them!~ Aragorn thought to himself as he kicked his sheath and sent it spinning into a corner. ~Light.~ He massages his temples. The sound of hooves hitting the cobbled pathways caught his attention. Aragorn lifted his eyes to the window and watched Legolas disappear beyond the Gates, his golden hair streaming out behind him in his speed.  
  
~Curse you, Legolas. go then, I care not~  
  
The King of Gondor turned from the window as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. How could he possibly defend his country without an army? The last stand of Sauron's forces would glimpse the walls of his kingdom before the season was out, and he had nothing to resist them. not even the hope that a great friendship had given him but a few minutes ago. 


	2. Underestimated

Author's Notes:  
  
Thanks so much to the people who reviewed!! Honestly, I saw that my story got replies, and I was very thrilled =D LoL.  
  
To clear some things up, I know Aragorn and Legolas are pretty OOC, but I'll try to explain some of why Aragorn is like that in this chapter (it's all that stress, I'm telling ya!). Legolas. erm. nah, he definitely isn't one to argue (or so the books and movies imply), but I guess he's sort of touchy on some subjects? Hehe, ok, well he is in this story anyway.  
  
Caet Rae: Hmm. overdone, ya think? Well, I had written it, not as Aragorn seeing it that way, but more from the reader's POV. But I guess it does sound a little bit. er. yeah you know what I mean =) Haha - once I get more familiar with how FFN works and how to edit things, I'll change it ^.~  
  
Fantasia: Haha, sorry, no slash writing from me. I like reading it, but writing it is a different story. I tried it once. it didn't quite turn out right =Þ  
  
***ALSO refer to the bottom of the story for Elvish translations.***  
  
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Chapter 2: Underestimated  
  
  
  
Legolas rode hunched over the saddle, his chest nearly touching Arod's mane as he spurred the horse to greater speeds. His need to be as far from Gondor - and Aragorn - as possible drove his furious mind. The beauty of the trees and the songs of the birds did nothing to appease his wrath and pain at Aragorn's words, and in fact, he did not even notice them as they sped by in a blur. ~Infuriating human~ The reins were clenched tightly in his hands and his normally joyous eyes were hardened. Only when the cold winds blew past him and the light started to fade did he allow Arod to steady to a slower pace.  
  
"That fool of a man. he dares to insult a people so much more insightful than his own kind! And he dismisses our feelings as if they were nothing!" Legolas gritted, speaking to himself as darkness moved in to overcome the light.  
  
"He has no need of me, does he? Fine then, he can fight there in his dead kingdom of stone all on his own! If he should die there, then so be it. He brought it upon himself!" The thought of Aragorn's death caused a sharp pain of grief in his heart, but he pushed it away. He was far too angry to care.  
  
The night brought chills and an eeriness that Legolas did not notice, considering his Elven resistance to such things. Despite that, he shivered, though he suspected it was not because of the cold. It was odd, he thought, to be in such conflict with one whom he loved so dearly as a brother. Or so he thought.  
  
~It matters not - he is no brother of mine if he cannot understand and accept my decisions~  
  
Legolas urged Arod forward and broke through a thin wall of shrubbery. A small open clearing greeted him. He swung down from his saddle and tied Arod to a nearby sycamore before untying his pack. Still growling to himself, Legolas struck the tinder a few times and managed to light a small, but warm, fire. He untied his weapons from Arod's saddle and strapped them to his back. He had taken them off that morning as he approached Gondor, not wanting to carry his weapons as he met with Aragorn. Now though, he slid his light Elven blades into their sheaths and lay his bow by his side as he leaned his back up against a tree.  
  
Just as Legolas felt himself slipping into the world of Elven dreams, he felt the trees stiffen and heard their whispers of alarm. He heard the barest hissing in the air; his eyes shot open and he threw himself to the side as an arrow thudded into the wood where his head had just been. Legolas was on his feet with his bow in hand and an arrow notched quicker than the eye could follow. His eyes quickly searched the darkness of the trees beyond the clearing. Judging as best he could where the arrow came from, he aimed and shot into the night. His acute hearing caught the sound of his arrow hitting flesh, but was worried when he did not hear the sound of a body hitting the ground.  
  
Moments later, two figures emerged from the trees. Uruk-hai.  
  
Legolas' brows rose in surprise. Uruk-hai, though stronger than orcs, did not tend to stray far from the main party, especially with only two of them. Even stranger was the fact that one of them had taken his arrow in the chest, and still he stood. Odd. The Prince shoved the concern aside as a small feral grin appeared on his face. Only two of them; this would be simple work.  
  
As the two growling Uruk-hai drew closer, smirking, Legolas dropped his bow and reached behind his back to unsheath his twin blades. He felt a comforting familiarity and a sudden burst of confidence as his fingers closed on the hilts. He whirled them out in front of him, the thin Elven metal whistling through the air. Then, they were upon him. The nearest one carried a huge cutlass, which he swung at Legolas' head. He nimbly dodged the blow and retaliated. He brought up one knife in an upward swing, the weapon moving faster than sight would allow. Assuming a quick dispatch, his eyes widened is surprise when the Uruk blocked his attack almost as fast and with much more force. ~When did anything related to an Orc become so fast?~  
  
Ignoring the numbing in his arms that block had created, Legolas crisscrossed the knives in midair and sliced across the creature's midsection. Red bloomed on the metal as Legolas ran the Uruk-hai through.  
  
  
  
The blond elf push-kicked the creature aside and pulled his blade free just as the second Uruk-hai charged him. The beast managed to knick Legolas' forearm before the elf swished one of his knives to knock the offending broadsword aside and dug his other blade into his opponent's side. Legolas spun and slammed both knife-points into the creature's chest.  
  
The elf backed away and clamped a hand over his wound. He felt the warm trickle of blood on his fingers. It was not serious, though, he was sure; it would heal within a few days. Suddenly, Legolas stopped and stared.  
  
The first Uruk-hai he had killed was gone.  
  
He barely had time to ponder it before he felt a huge weight crash onto his back as his blades were knocked from his hands. Legolas gasped as he was crushed to the ground.  
  
"You think I will be rid of so easily, elf?" a hoarse voice growled into his ear.  
  
Gritting his teeth, Legolas heaved with all his strength and flipped the Uruk-hai off his back. As he made to stand, the creature grabbed his ankles and yanked hard. Legolas fell onto his back, the wind knocked out of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Uruk-hai grab his cutlass and swing towards him. Legolas automatically rolled to the side as the metal struck the dirt.  
  
~Thank the Valar for Elven reflexes.~  
  
The Uruk-hai struggled to regain his balance from the force of his blow. In those moments, Legolas reached one hand behind him to grab his dropped blade that he knew would be there. He blue eyes widened in shock when a pair of rough hands found his.  
  
The second Uruk-hai was alive and apparently well enough to fight. He had Legolas's wrist in a tight grip and was grinning, though not in a particularly friendly way.  
  
"How in the name of.-"  
  
By now, Legolas was far too confused to even understand what was going on. He had killed both these creatures! He had stabbed them in vital places, and they should have been dead by now! Legolas narrowed his eyes, forcing his mind to come back to him and focus. He scooted back slightly and kicked his knife upwards and caught it with his free hand. He swiped it downwards and felt it bite into the Uruk's hand that held him. The beat released him with a cry of pain and stumbled backwards.  
  
Legolas spun around and met the first Uruk's downward slash just in time. He deflected the blow and countered. By now, the second Uruk had grabbed his broadsword and was charging from behind. His mind working furiously, Legolas dropped to his knees and executed a roll that took him between the first Uruk-hai's legs and to the other side of him.  
  
Legolas hoped that the second Uruk would be going too fast to stop in time and would accidentally run his partner through with his weapon. It had worked numerous times before on both Orcs and Uruks. The Uruk-hai were strong, but they were also usually too large to be able to control their movements very well at that speed. -  
  
The golden elf gaped in surprise. The second Uruk stopped abruptly, his blade a mere inch from his companion's head. Legolas gritted his teeth in grim frustration; his plan had not worked as well as he had hoped. Thinking quickly, Legolas searched the ground for his other blade. Within moments, he found it lying in a pile of leaves only a few feet to the side. He grabbed it and, lifting his other blade already in hand, swung the twin knives to either side of the first Uruk's neck and decapitated him. As the monster fell, the second Uruk-hai growled in anger and frustration. It was not pleased.  
  
His azure eyes hardened, but shining with battle light, Legolas dropped his twin blades and reach behind him to pull two arrows from his quiver. Gripping them tightly, he thrust his hands forwards and shoved the arrows into the beast's eyes. With a howl, it clawed at its face in agony and dropped to the ground. It trembled there for a few spastic moments before Legolas retrieved his blades and drove them through the Uruk-hai's head. It gave a final shiver before it stopped and lay still.  
  
Legolas stood staring at the two dead creatures for a full minute before he shook his head to clear it. Still in a slight daze, the golden-haired elf wiped his knives clean on one of the Uruk's tunics.  
  
Questions races through his mind as he sheathed his weapons and wiped the sweat and blood from his face. How did they manage to sneak up on him so quietly in the dark, and why did they feel that it was safe to travel with only two of them? How was it possible that those two Uruk-hai lived after receiving fatal wounds from him in the first round? How did they possess so much agility and how was it that their reflexes were so fast for their kind?  
  
Legolas was beyond confused, as well as highly concerned. What should have been an easy three-minute battle almost cost him his life. He might have had trouble with a dozen of them, but only two should not have even worked up a sweat.  
  
As the Prince of Mirkwood hoisted up his packs and tightened the straps on Arod's saddle, worry worked its way into the core of his being.  
  
~These Uruk-hai are different than the others we've faced before. These. these are stealthier, smarter, quicker, and much less vulnerable. By the Valar. if these are the Uruk-hai who are marching against Gondor, Aragorn will have no chance of beating them, especially without news of their new advantages~  
  
His jaw set, Legolas pulled himself onto Arod's back and turned him towards Gondor - and Aragorn. Suddenly, the events of that morning swept back into him.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
".I cannot be so quick to understand your kind's idiocy on these matters! Then again, what I truly do not understand is how Mirkwood could be so traitorous as not to come and help."  
  
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Legolas closed his eyes, the furious words of their argument clicked back into his mind.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"How is it so, brother, that you would desert me at the time of my greatest  
  
need!?"  
  
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He felt his blood rising hot in his veins again. ~No! I must warn Aragorn. this stubbornness cannot get the better of me~  
  
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"I have no need for prissy woodland elves who exhibit even the slightest hesitation!"  
  
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Legolas felt his breath coming faster and he unconsciously tightened his hold on the reins. ~No need. indiot of a mortal. He spoke like an ignorant fool~  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Leave then! Go back to your traitorous people and tell them the King of Gondor does not need, nor want, their aid! Go back, Legolas to your precious woods and build your precious ships and sail away as Gondor is overrun! GO!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Go.go.go.  
  
Aragorn's last words to him echoed in his head. Legolas felt the pain of their parting anew in his heart. Growling in renewed anger, he turned his horse once again - back towards Mirkwood. ~It is not my place to warn him. He has no need of me and my "traitorous" ways.he said so himself~  
  
  
  
  
  
Aragorn sighed for the hundredth time. The words he was writing were becoming blurry and his head ached from inhaling too much ink fumes. He spared a glance to the window and gazed wistfully at the gardens for a minute or two. How he wished he could just take a walk to rid himself of all the pressure. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention back to the parchment in front of him.  
  
It was a letter to Theoden King of Rohan. It was one of the many letters he was preparing to send out to request aid for Gondor. Aragorn had been working diligently on them for hours, though he often found his attention straying to various things, especially his fiery argument with Legolas, though he tried especially hard not to.  
  
He found that every time he thought of Legolas or Mirkwood, a new flame would ignite in him and his jaw would tighten with renewed anger. He didn't understand why he was taking Mirkwood's refusal to help so badly, but he simply couldn't help the waves of anger that flowed through him.  
  
~Such treachery just had to surface now.~  
  
Especially infuriating was the way Legolas had acted; it was as if thousands of Uruk-hai weren't marching upon Gondor, that the King of Men had simply been calling Mirkwood's warriors to afternoon tea! Deep down, Aragorn knew he had only blown up at Legolas because of the stress and the weight on his shoulders that his predicament forced on him, but he pushed that out of his mind. He would never admit that to the elf. Aragorn continued to scribble down requests - practically pleas - as he forced the incident of the morning before to fade from his mind. Honestly, he was being irrational, and he didn't quite care.  
  
Aragorn heard the soft click of the door opening, but not the footsteps that followed. Judging from the fact that, even with his sharp hearing, he could not make out any sounds, he knew Arwen had entered the room. Seconds later, he felt the gentle descending of a woman's hand on his shoulder. The Evenstar's musical voice followed that touch.  
  
"Aragorn. you are far too tense. Won't you rest awhile?"  
  
"How can I rest when such evil approaches?" Aragorn replied without looking up.  
  
Arwen sighed. Her husband had been slaving over these cursed plans and letters for days, and it was beginning to show. She had been so thrilled when Legolas had arrived, knowing beyond a doubt that he would ease Aragorn's mind. She had not even imagined that such an argument would erupt and that Legolas, her beloved's dearest friend, would storm away in anger.  
  
Her bright eyes sad, Arwen made her way to Aragorn's side and crouched down so she was looking up at him. She lifted a slender hand to tilt his chin downwards until he was looking into her eyes. His eyes were stony, hard, and unreadable. to everyone but a few - she being one of those few. Behind the wall he had built, Arwen saw the frustration and the pressure, and the hidden pain of a bond he felt had been broken.  
  
She touched his skin gently with her fingertips.  
  
"Ilya uu- wanwa, meleth nin`." She whispered.  
  
The stormy gray of his eyes was fixed on her intently.  
  
"I feel as if it is, Arwen," he said quietly. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, they held a hint of hopelessness. "Taare amin` uu- i poldore ana fenda sien`. Nin nilda e herenya."  
  
Arwen shook her head slowly and move her hands to grasp his.  
  
"En hilda amin` estel miule Estel kanuva sien."  
  
Aragorn gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Arwen."  
  
She smiled at him and stood. Bending down slightly, she kissed him on the forehead before gathering her skirts and gliding silently out of the room. Aragorn followed her with his eyes until the door closed shut behind her. He turned back to the papers that littered his desk. Picking up his quill once again, he quickly finished his letter to Rohan. Laying it with the other finished letters, he chose a clean parchment and prepared his hand to write. ~And now for Gimli's kin.~  
  
Despite Arwen's comforting words, the hopelessness still lingered hungrily in his mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Yay, second chapter posted! Wahoo =) OK, just to clear things up, the Elvish I used was very very INCORRECT. I have no clue about Elvish grammar, and half of those words aren't right anyway. I only wanted to use Elvish in this story to give a certain affect in some places, such as the relationship between Aragorn and Arwen. To those people who actually DO know things about the Elvish language, please be easy on me! I try, honest!  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Translations  
  
"Ilya uu- wanwa, meleth nin`" - All is not lost, my love.  
  
"Taare amin` uu- i poldore ana fenda sien`. Nin nilda e herenya." - We have not the strength to fight them. My men are frightened.  
  
"En hilda amin estel miule Estel kanuva sien." - Your men have hope while Hope leads them.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Watch for the next update! It should be here in about half a week.hopefully less. 


	3. Decisions

Author's Notes:  
  
Hey, thanks again for all the great reviews! They're so encouraging to a writer! =D I know this story is going a little slow, and it's kinda boring right now, but I'm trying to work through it as I go =/ Give me some time, and it'll all be over soon!  
  
***I'm putting the elvish translations in the beginning now, so check for em!***  
  
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Translations  
  
Ada - Father  
  
'Quel andune - Good afternoon  
  
Tenna` telwan - Until later  
  
Mani - What? ~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 3: Decisions  
  
Aragorn crumpled the fine parchment in his hand and flung it out his window. The reply from Theoden caught on the wind and blew around before it settled on the pathways far below. It had been two weeks since Aragorn sent out his requests for aid to different leaders, all of whom he was well acquainted with. He only received three replies. The first being from Rohan, which stated "the kingdom of Rohan is not willing to fight any wars now. The people are too weak, and our fighters too few. Though, you have our prayers with you."  
  
~What good are prayers, Theoden King? I need men~  
  
The second reply was from Rivendell, as Aragorn suspected it would be. He already knew what the letter would say before he opened and read it.  
  
  
  
~Estel,  
  
I will send as many of our warriors as possible, though I warn you, do not put too much hope in us. Able fighters are few, for all those who would stand readily by you have already sailed West. I will come if I can, but I do not know if my position as Lord of Imladris will allow me to leave for so long. I am preparing the fighters now, and they will be in Gondor and ready to fight in a month's time.  
  
Do not be afraid, my son. I have faith in you, Estel - your name serves you well.  
  
~Ada  
  
  
  
Aragorn sighed. He appreciated Elrond's encouragement and the help he was giving, but he knew, just as Elrond did, that it would not be enough. Gimli's short reply did not ease Aragorn's frustration, though it did make him think fondly of his short dwarven friend.  
  
  
  
~Aragorn,  
  
My kinsmen are being foolish and will not come, though I tried my best to move their rough hides. Never fear, Aragorn, I will come. My axe is sharpened and my boots are new. I will make haste to Gondor tomorrow morning. I suspect I will be a little late, so save me some action.  
  
~Gimli, son of Gloin  
  
  
  
Considering that Gimli was traveling on foot from leagues upon leagues away, the King of Gondor knew Gimli would be more than a little late. He doubted the dwarf would even make it in time to see the smoke from the destruction of Gondor fade and disappear.  
  
Shaking his head, Aragorn rubbed his temples. On a sudden impulse, he reached for his inkbottle and threw it out the window after the crumpled letter, just for good measure.  
  
  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
The breeze was calming as it brushed Legolas' skin. It was not cold, though it offered him a tingling comfort. The Prince of Mirkwood breathed in and inhaled the distinct woodland scent of his homeland. He had arrived at Mirkwood's borders the night before, but from there it was still a day's travel to reach the palace. In the distance, Legolas could see the arched towers of his home peeking above the treetops. In his eagerness to be home, he spurred Arod to a faster pace.  
  
Legolas approached the light gray gates that barred him from his home within. Smiling, he reached out to touch the rough surface of the stone and was not surprised when it sunk inwards slowly, making a soft imprint of his hand. The woodland elves were very proud of their "naith`gil", Mirkwood's "living rock". Legolas leaned in close to the wall and whispered a few elvish words. With barely a sound, the gates began to swing inward, awoken and moved by the password only members of the royal family knew.  
  
With only the barest touch of the reins, Arod cut forward at a casual canter. For Legolas, home was heaven, and it seemed he had been gone for two months, rather than two weeks. As he drew nearer to the palace, he spotted several elves he knew wave to him, then bow slightly as he passed.  
  
  
  
"My Prince!"  
  
At the use of his title, Legolas reined in Arod and his eyes sought the speaker. He smiled when he saw who it was.  
  
"'Quel andune, Gildurin! I told you not to call me that - Legolas suits me much better than any stuffy title. It seems I haven't seen you in ages, my friend. How have things been in my absence? Not too boring, I hope," Legolas said, grinning.  
  
Gildurin laughed. "Actually, it's been all the better without your monotonous droning dulling everyone to pieces." He dodged Legolas' playful swat and backed away, smiling. "Go on and see your father, Legolas, he's always complaining about not having you around to go hunting with."  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes, but there was a pleased light in them. "Alright, I'll see he's satisfied. Tenna` telwan, Gildurin!" With a slight wave, Legolas turned Arod back on course. Within minutes, the huge double doors of the palace loomed over him. He dismounted and handed the reins to a nearby guard. He jogged lightly up the steps and pulled open the doors. He was pleased to see there were many dallying about the great entrance hall. Some in Mirkwood questioned why Thranduil allowed whomever to come in and out of the palace, but Legolas always felt it was homier that way.  
  
Legolas saw his father sitting upon the great throne, conversing with a few friends and advisors. It seemed that Thranduil could sense his son's presence, because he turned and met the younger elf's eyes. The King of Mirkwood smiled in relief at seeing his son safe and back home. Despite the fact that Legolas traveled often, and usually alone, he could never stop worrying about his only child.  
  
"Excuse me, please," Thranduil nodded to his friends and made his way towards Legolas. He clasped his son's shoulder. "Welcome home, Legolas."  
  
Legolas smiled and nodded respectively. "It is good to be home."  
  
Despite Legolas' warm demeanor, Thranduil sensed something amiss. "Is something wrong? How did things fare with Aragorn? I do hope he didn't take our refusal badly." Judging by the look Legolas was giving him, Thranduil assumed things didn't fare too well. The King started in the direction of his chambers, leading his son by the forearm. "Come, we will discuss what happened in private."  
  
  
  
  
  
After Legolas had informed his father of all that had happened during his short time in Gondor, he shut his mouth and cast his eyes to the intricately woven bed sheet he sat upon. To his frustration, he felt an unsettling guilt settle in his stomach. ~Argh - I'd rather be angry than feel guilty~ A light touch on his knee made him look up.  
  
"Legolas - you spoke unwisely to him. Harsh words between friends can cause more damage than you think. Perhaps you should have played out your words in your head before you blurted them out in your anger. Every action comes with a consequence."  
  
Legolas sighed. "I know that, ada, but he was being irrational and far too judgmental." He frowned. "Besides, Aragorn should know better than to insult our people and accuse us of things like that."  
  
Thranduil sighed and stood. His son was being as stubborn and prideful as he accused his human friend of being. ~Ah, young ones~ He cleared his throat.  
  
"I think perhaps we should rethink our decision to aid Gondor in their final battle."  
  
Legolas' head shot up at his father's words. "Mani!? Don't be foolish, ada, the council has already decided, and -" he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, "Aragorn does not need our help. He told me so himself."  
  
Thranduil sighed again for the second time. Children could be so silly sometimes. Silly and hardheaded. Though his son claimed to be a matured adult, he was obviously not showing very mature traits.  
  
"No, my son, you should rethink this. We all should. Your friendship with Estel of the Elves is not a bond that should be so carelessly tossed aside."  
  
"Ada, I -"  
  
Thranduil held up his hand, "We will hold a second meeting tomorrow. I expect you to sleep on this and be ready to discuss with a clear and unbiased head tomorrow morning."  
  
"But -"  
  
"No buts, Legolas." He eyed the young elf sternly. "It will be ultimately your decision. I pray to Earendil that you can make that choice wisely."  
  
"But Ada! You said so yourself before that the warriors in Mirkwood don't even want to fight anymore! How can you go and change your mind like that?" Legolas inquired incredulously.  
  
Thranduil dismissed Legolas' outburst with a wave of his hand. "Do not let that concern you. They will fight if they must," he met his son's eyes, "and if someone gives them enough reason to."  
  
Before Legolas could even utter a word of complaint, the door clicked shut behind his father, now gone back to his guests in the main hall.  
  
Legolas gaped soundlessly at the closed door for several seconds before he could regain his composure. So, he had another chance to help Aragorn? The golden-haired elf scowled at the door. ~So, it is fully my decision then? Right now, I have absolutely no desire to help that human at all~ He slid beneath the covers. ~If the mortal is lucky, I will think differently tomorrow morning.  
  
Unconsciously, Legolas thumped the pillow in his frustration.  
  
~If he is lucky~  
  
~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Man, I'm shooting this chapters out fast. Three chapters for three days - not bad eh? Haha. OK like I said, I know this is going slow, and I'm very sorry for it! Stay with me please! Hopefully, the ending will make up for the boringness in the middle =P.  
  
Read and review! 


	4. Legolas' Choice

Author's Notes:  
  
FFN is weird. does anyone know how to make italics and "etc periods" show up? I tried html, but that didn't work. What the hay-diddly!?! Argh, how frustrating. I need italics and periods! YAAAAGGHH - ahem, sorry. Anyways, if anyone knows about that, fill me in please! Oh yeah, since we're on the subject, how do you center things and bold things and make some text bigger than others? Aiiyaaaaa!  
  
I'm writing another story as I finish up this one, so stay tuned for more info bout that! Hopefully, it'll be more interesting than this one. Heh heh heh heh.  
  
Ok, enough from me. Read on, oh, LotT adventurers!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Chapter 4: Legolas' Choice  
  
  
  
  
  
A soft kock on the chamber doors snapped Aragorn from his reverie. He cleared his throat. "Come in."  
  
Two guards appeared looking rather nervous. Before Aragorn could inquire about what they wanted, one guard pushed in a third person. The King of Gondor raised one eyebrow. Standing before him was a middle-aged man that had obviously been traveling for many days. His weather-beaten face and light brown hair were streaked with dirt, and his clothes were ripped and frayed in some places. He carried no weapons, only the light of knowledge in his eyes that spoke of some ominous foreboding. The man dropped to his knows before his king and bowed his head. "My Lord, permission to speak."  
  
Taking full note of the man, Aragorn nodded curiously, "Permission granted."  
  
"My name is Maryich of the House Ragan. I come from the village of Hadborough, twenty-five leagues west of here. I was out scouting with a raiding party of five others. We were camping on the third day when we were ambushed by a small party of Uruk-hai."  
  
Uruk-hai. That word certainly caught Aragorn's attention,  
  
The man continued, "We were downwind of them, so we had no warning of them. Three of my companions were killed and another injured. Knowing we could not hold against them, the remaining three of us fled into the forests. We were surprised when we were not followed. Apparently, the Uruk-hai had been looking only for a food source to last them a short while.  
  
Aragorn frowned. ~Those must be the same creatures who march against Gondor~ The man's next words confirmed that.  
  
"Later that night, we decided to track the main body, to see what they were up to. We crouched behind a knoll for hours, spying on them. We overheard conversations about breaking down Gondor's walls. We assumed they were planning to attack your city, though we thought that odd because we only saw a hundred of them or so, hardly enough to even be considered dangerous to a kingdom such as Gondor. Then -" he shivered in spite of himself, "Then we heard horns blowing, from far ahead of us. Curious and confused, we climbed the hill and there they were. Thousands of them, bedding down for the night. Their campfires looked like stars in the sky, so many of them there were. We left that moment - I send my two companions back to Hadborough and I journeyed here to warn you." With those words said, he bowed his head and took a step back respectively.  
  
Aragorn's eyes narrowed in thought. He met the man's eyes. "How long ago was this? -that you saw them, I mean."  
  
"Two and a half weeks ago, my Lord."  
  
"Aragorn's eyes widened. Two and a half weeks! "Are you saying more than a thousand Uruk-hai will be knocking at Gondor's gates in two and half week's time? Come, man, speak!"  
  
"No! Well, at least, I doubt it. I took a more secret route to get here. It takes much shorter a time for one man to get here using secret pathways than for an entire army who uses the long way."  
  
Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. He loosened his fists, which he just noticed had tightened while the man was talking. He still had some time. He stepped forward and grasped the man's shoulder. "Well down, Maryich, I thank you. Go, get something to eat - my guards will show you a room to stay for the night. In the morning, I will provide you with a horse. Hurry home - you will not want to be here in a few weeks."  
  
After Maryich left, Aragorn sat staring out his window for several minutes. ~More than a thousand of them - Gondor is destroyed at last then?~  
  
He tamped down the bitter bite of helplessness that was steadily rising in him. Several dozen men in the courtyards below caught his attention; they were training for the upcoming battle. Despite all the odds stacked against him, he smiled with pride. His men were working and training day and night, their spirits never slackened. They had faith in their King - more faith than Aragorn had in himself.  
  
Suddenly feeling guilty for the fact that he had been brooding in his rooms for two days, he grabbed his sword and strapped it around his waste. He threw open his doors, bounded down the stairs, and jogged into the courtyard. Once his men saw him, they stopped immediately and dropped to their knees. Half way down, Aragorn stopped them and waved, bidding them continue.  
  
He watched them for a long time, offering encouragement and advice when he felt it was needed. ~These men show more courage than I've ever had~ To his surprise, since the first time since Legolas left, he felt hope.  
  
Aragorn gave one last tip to a pair of sparring partners and turned, making his way to a more secluded area. His hands closed on the pommel of his sword. The blade flew from its sheath and whirled in the air as the weapon took on a life of its own. Aragorn didn't know how long he trained - he hardly knew what he was doing. His battle instincts were at work here and he had no control over his own body, it seemed.  
  
Finally, Anduril slowed and stopped. Aragorn sheathed the ancient blade before pulling out the bow that was strapped to his back. He picked a target on a distant oak and strung his bow. He shot arrow after arrow, never once missing his intended target. A voice startled him out of his intense concentration.  
  
"You are a skillfull bowmen, my King."  
  
Aragorn turned and saw a young guard in training by the name of Aerin - perhaps nineteen years of age - looking at him admiringly, and more than a little nervously. With the boy's simple words, déjà vu invaded his senses and he was spun back to a time when he was not yet known as Aragorn, when Estel was still his name.  
  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~Flashback~*~*~*~*~  
  
Estel closed one eye as he stretched the fletching of the air behind his ear. His face was set in concentration as he released the arrow and watched it thud into the trunk of a tall willow - five feet away from his intended target. The human sighed, but a smile donned his face as he stopped to gaze happily at the polished bow in his hands. It had been a gift from his foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, that afternoon for his eighteenth birthday. He was not too skilled with it, but he adored the bow anyway. The words ~Estel of Rivendell~ were engraved in the smooth wood, personalizing it. He lifted it again, restrung, and released. Three feet away. He was getting better, he decided. As he pulled the string back for a third attempt, a soft, but firm, voice interrupted him.  
  
"You are a skillful bowman - for a human of your years, anyway."  
  
Estel spun around in surprise and almost whacked the newcomer in the head with his bow. He apologized nervously before he stopped and took note of who stood across from him. An elf dressed in greens and browns with a quiver and twin blades strapped across his back stood before him. A longbow rested casually in his right hand. Oddly enough to Estel, the bow seemed to be an extension of the elf's arm, rather than a weapon. Judging by the light color of the elf's hair, the young man inferred that he was not of Rivendell. He realized he was staring and shook himself before answering.  
  
"Thank you. I'm not as good as this bow deserves, but I try my best. Ah - I apologize for sounding ignorant, but may I ask who you are? I don't remember seeing you around here."  
  
The golden elf smiled. "My name is Legolas of Mirkwood. I came for a short visit and to pay my respects to Lord Elrond."  
  
Estel gaped. Now that he had more time to look at Legolas, he noticed the intricate circle on the elf's cloak - the royal seal of Mirkwood. ~By the Valar, I'm talking to Prince Legolas of Greenwood!~ Estel had heard of Legolas as being an incredible archer from his brothers. He had planned to perfect his archery in the chance that he would ever meet the Prince. Now though, Legolas had seen Estel's shooting for how horrible it was compared to his own. The human felt like disappearing.  
  
Legolas seemed to be able to read his mind, because he laughed. "It appears you know who I am then, just as I know who you are, Estel of the Elves."  
  
~He knows my name! Incredible~ Estel thought to himself. As he was still pondering what to say to Legolas, his thoughts were interrupted.  
  
"Would you like me to show you how to get a better shot?"  
  
Estel's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly.  
  
"Alright then." Legolas gestures for Estel to notch an arrow once again. He placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other he lightly touched the bow. "Move your feet a little farther apart and tilt your shoulder just so - right, just like that. Loosen up, Estel - relax. From this distance, the arrow will fly in a slight arc, though you might not be able to see it. So, aim just a little higher than the target, see? Alright, steady your breathing - focus." Legolas took a step away. "Alright, now shoot."  
  
To Estel's surprise and delight, the arrow thudded right on target. He turned to his new teacher and grinned. "Thank you."  
  
"Anytime, Estel. We should go in now though- your father is expecting us for dinner."  
  
The future King of Gondor nodded in consent before matching his stride with his new Elven friend, back towards the feast that awaited them.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~Flashback Ended~*~*~*~  
  
Aragorn withheld the nostalgic sigh that threatened to escape him. That day in Rivendell was the beginning of a friendship that would last until the end of their days, well at least he had thought so. He remembered the laughter they shared that night at the grand dinner his father had prepared for them. He remembered how Legolas had decided to stay for a week - then another week - then another - rather than the three days as he had originally intended. The memories of the camping and hunting trips they went on, and the hours of long conversation by the trees - it all came back to him. Aragorn felt a heavy sadness descend upon him. ~I really should not have blamed Legolas as I did~  
  
With a slight shake of his head, he turned to Aerin, who was looking at him quizzically.  
  
"Would you like me to teach you?"  
  
Aerin looked like he had just inherited the kingdom. Speechless, he nodded and stepped up. Aragorn handed him his bow and watched closely as the boy notched it clumsily.  
  
"Alright Aerin. Space your feet a little and tilt your shoulders a bit. Make sure you're not stiff - relax. Aim a little higher than the target; from this distance, the arrow will be forced to fly in an arc. Understand? Good. Control your breathing and don't jerk when you release the arrow." Aragorn adjusted the boy's hands slightly before stepping a pace away. "Now shoot."  
  
Aerin stared at the arrow that had struck the bark only a foot from the target. He looked up at his king and grinned. "I give you much thanks, my Lord - you are a good teacher."  
  
Aragorn smiled back, though a sad light shone in his eyes. "I learned from the best. You are very good, Aerin, considering you have never picked up a bow before. You have a sense for it, I think. Keep practicing. Oh, and you can keep the bow as a gift". Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder before turning and strolling off into the woods.  
  
Aerin stared at Aragorn's retreating back, his mouth agape. He turned his head to stare at his new bow, not believing his fortune. ~Light - I am holding the King's own bow! Iluvitar- ~  
  
Aragorn walked until he was a decent distance away from the courtyard before he swung up into a giant magnolia tree. He ascended the thick branches nimbly - another skill Legolas had taught him in the early years. He shifted until he was comfortable on the highest branch. He turned his eyes towards the direction of Mirkwood. ~What have I done?~  
  
  
  
  
  
"Elders of Mirkwood, you have been summoned to this meeting to reconsider a previous decision."  
  
Legolas watched as his father addressed the council. Most of the elves present looked fidgety and anxious to be off.  
  
"As you all are aware, Mirkwood has decided not to aid Gondor in its final stand against Sauron, for personal reasons. The Havens call us to her shores, and many here do not wish to delay that call." Thranduil continued. "However, I feel that perhaps we should rethink that decision. Gondor is an old ally, and," he glanced at Legolas, "their King is like a brother to my son."  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes subtly and looked away from his father's gaze. ~Ha, a brother - riiiight~ He knew his father's words were true, but Aragorn obviously didn't feel that way if he had the gall to send Legolas away. ~Insufferable human~  
  
"Well," an elder named Gawain spoke up, "I for one think we should leave Gondor to her own troubles. It is not as if we ever had an especially strong alliance with them, and besides, " he settled his hands in his lap, "the people of Mirkwood want to leave these shores as soon as possible."  
  
"Yes, but perhaps we're being ungracious," an adviser of Thranduil named Iandor said. "We of Mirkwood have always tried to offer our assistance to less fortunate peoples and I fear perhaps not helping them will contradict our morals."  
  
Draithien, a close friend of the royal family disagreed. "That may be true, Iandor, but-"  
  
Legolas tuned out the debate as it gew more active. He idly thought of other things: the bird songs, the trees after the rain, Elladan's famous fireside stew - despite his hardest attempts, thoughts of Aragorn drifted up in his mind. Memories of laughter and mischief flooded the elf's head, try as he did to keep them out. He missed Aragorn's company tremendously, though he refused to admit it. So what if he was in denial. ~If he hadn't blown at me, then none of this would have every happened. It's still his blasted fault~  
  
***But it's your fault, too.  
  
~Oh do be quiet~ Legolas told his conscience irritably.  
  
***Don't be bullheaded - Aragorn is not fully to blame, and he needs you now.  
  
Legolas sighed. Deep in his heart Legolas knew he was partly to blame for their irrational argument. He almost wished he were mature enough to go back to Gondor and apologize. Almost.  
  
He felt himself drifting back to the council. He heard a stern voice - Iandor again.  
  
"But the people have already been told we are not to fight. How will the warriors feel when they are told they must battle when they are so lighthearted now because they think they will not have to see much more of Middle-Earth?" said the older elf.  
  
Legolas played with the sleeve of his dark green shirt as his thoughts slid again. ~Alright, fine, it wasn't entirely Aragorn's fault, but all the same, he should not have been so foolish to speak hasty words in anger~ He ignored the fact that he was being hypocritical concerning he was guilty of the same thing.  
  
"I agree with Gawain - we should help," offered Raethun, another elder.  
  
"Aye, we should be there for Gondor and her King."  
  
"Aye."  
  
"No, I still agree with Iandor, it is not our place."  
  
"Then again -"  
  
Legolas wasn't quite paying attention as the council voiced their new outlooks. ~He may be King of Gondor, but I am royalty as well and he should respect that!~  
  
Thranduil turned to look at his son, who was looking rather distant. The King of Mirkwood was surprised Legolas had not spoken up during that entire hour during the meeting. No matter - as long as the young elf could look past his pride and see sense. Thranduil again turned to the council.  
  
He spoke with a firm voice of authority, "It does my heart well to see you all are at least reconsidering our options. Thank you for that, my friends. While I do hold the position of king, I will not make your decisions for you. As the representatives of the people, you will choose. However, I would appreciate it if you listened well to my son, your Prince, and take into account everything he says before making your decision."  
  
~The nerve of him! He thinks he can simply yell at me like I am some child who has broken his favorite vase!~  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
~Impudent mortal. He even dared to call my people traitors! ~  
  
"Legolas!"  
  
~And he even ventured as far to call ME a traitor! A true friend would never assume such things~  
  
"LEGOLAS!"  
  
The young elf's head snapped up as Thranduil's sharp tone yanked him from his pool of thoughts. He looked around to see his father looking at him sternly and the council staring at him quizzically.  
  
"Legolas, this is your chance to speak."  
  
"Oh. sorry, father." Legolas stood and opened his mouth to speak. Before any words could come forth, Aragorn's harsh words came back to him again. Legolas remembered the fire in his friend's eyes and the way he had clutched the hilt of his sword as if he has been planning to pull it out and use it. Legolas recalled the bitter tone in Aragorn's voice as he sent Legolas away.  
  
A dark grief jerked at him, but his anger overrode it a dozen times over. ~My pride may be getting the best of me, but it is the end for he and I, and nothing can take back what was said~  
  
Legolas' eyes hardened and he didn't look at his father when he finally spoke. His voice was cold. "The King Elessar of Gondor expressed to me during my last visit that he does not need or want our assistance. He can make do without us."  
  
Legolas sat back down amid the stunned silence that followed his words spoken in frost. The council members glances at each other in confusion; Legolas was supposed to defend Gondor. He had before. Why didn't he now?  
  
Thranduil stared at his young son whose eyes were cast down. He sighed. Shaking his head slowly in disappointment, he addressed the council. "After your Prince's words, what is your decision, council of Mirkwood? To make this simple, raise your hands if you wish to aid Gondor."  
  
The elders looked at each other oddly. Why should they help Gondor if the King there didn't want their help? Besides, Legolas didn't seem enthusiastic about this in the least. Therefore, Gondor's troubles couldn't be that bad - Prince Legolas was King Elessar's best friend; he would help if he knew Gondor needed it. Justified, the council remained still.  
  
Thranduil sighed. Not one hand was raised. And to think - they were so close - so close - in convincing Mirkwood to help Gondor. Why did his son have to keep up his moronic pride now of all times? -But it could not be undone.  
  
"It is decided then. We sail to the Havens." Thranduil's voice was heavy. ~He has decided then~  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Longest chapter yet, at 10 pages in a Word document! Dang, I wish I could write that much for school essays =Þ Anyways, pop me some comments and suggestions, and stay tuned! =D 


	5. Unbroken

Author's Notes:  
  
Sweet mother of BOB, forgive me, guys! This chapter is really odd, mostly because it is seriously rushed. Aragorn and Legolas go through emotion changes in one day that would normally occur over a few weeks' time! I would just like to apologize now for the questionable writing. Just imagine it's really happening over a week or so, ok?? Again, I'm sorry~!  
  
**AFTER THIS, ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT**  
  
You know, I was reconsidering the character death thing, but I think I'll stick to my original plot and kill off the character in the next chapter. Whoooohoo that'll be fun to write. MWAAHHAHAHAA! Ahem, ok read on!  
  
(cough cough - do we sense some foreshadowing in this chapter as to who will die? Hmmmmm =Þ)  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 5: Unbroken  
  
*** * ***  
  
Sweat ran down Aragorn's face as he struggled to defend himself against the Uruk-hai. Chaos reigned around him as the forces of Sauron closed in around Gondor. The sky was blackened with ravens and the land was blackened with beasts. The hordes surged forward, tearing at walls and people alike, as if both were nothing but cloth.  
  
All around him, Aragorn could see his warriors being struck down by scythes and broadswords. Others fell to the arrows that rained down on them. So many were already dead or dying. Countless many.  
  
People, men and women alike, fell lifeless to the ground by the already lifeless stone chunks of stone that used to be the great wall of Gondor. All this Aragorn watched - as best he could while fighting so many at one time. It was useless. There was no escape.  
  
He wielded his ancient sword with speed and skill rare in Middle- Earth, but the Uruk-hai slain by that blade were always replaced. Aragorn thrust his sword into the chest of one creature, then swung it down lower to cut another's feet from under him.  
  
Suddenly, he felt a sensation that was oddly numbing. His breath left him as he saw the arrow that bloomed from his chest. As he felt the life slipping from him, the only rational thing he could think of was Legolas, who was probably sailing westward that very moment.  
  
~Why, Legolas?~  
  
To his surprise, he felt no anger, no respite - only grief that he was forced to lose his people, his life and his most valued friendship. Ironic -  
  
Aragorn could feel the tears sliding his face, and he didn't care. He felt the strength seeping from him, draining out through the hole in his body the arrow had created.  
  
~I'm so sorry~  
  
Iluvitar, how it hurt. The physical pain was nothing - his soul, however, was entrenched in a deep pit of despair. The waters of that abyss sucked him down, dragged him further into the helpless darkness.  
  
~Forigve me, Legolas~  
  
Estel fought as long as his failing body would permit, as long as his grieving soul would allow. They didn't allow it for very long.  
  
His heartbeat slowed and faded in his chest as Anduril sang its final song.  
  
*** * ***  
  
Aragorn shot up in bed, a trickle of sweat sliding down his face. His breath came hard as the nightmare was still vivid in his mind. With a heavy sigh, he held his head in his hands and waited for his heartbeat to steady.  
  
"Aragorn?"  
  
He turned to see Arwen sitting up slowly, awakened by the sudden movement. She was looking at him with concern engraved deeply in her eyes. How he hated to see her worry for him - it gave her grief he wished he could take for himself  
  
~As if I don't have enough for myself~ he thought bitterly.  
  
"Aragorn, what troubles you so late at night?" her voice was soft.  
  
He ran a hand through his damp hair and met her eyes. "It is nothing, do not concern yourself, Arwen." He knew she didn't believe him, but he thanked the Valar when she nodded and lay back down. He was grateful that his beloved knew when to push things and when to let things be.  
  
Aragorn lay back down and welcomed the touch when Arwen snuggled up against him. Instead of falling back asleep, however, he let his thoughts wander.  
  
~If that nightmare will be reality, then Gondor is truly lost~  
  
He felt a raw pain tearing at him as he remembered the feeling he had in his dream concerning Legolas. Aragorn closed his eyes. ~Forget my foolish pride. If I am to die here, then I will not die without Legolas' friendship~  
  
  
  
~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Only an hour after the sun had risen, Aragorn was up and watching the pathways from his high window.  
  
"Ride hard," he whispered to himself as he watched the messenger ride out through the gates of Gondor towards Mirkwood carrying a precious letter.  
  
  
  
~Legolas  
  
If I could reverse time, I would gladly do so, even at the expense of my life. Fiery words spoken by my fiery tongue have proved my downfall, as you have probably noticed. I should have been more understanding towards you and your people. My words were spoken in pride and irrationality, but that does not release me from fault. I fear an apology - not even a thousand apologies - will never suffice to mend what I have said to you. Only understand that I do not think you, nor your people traitorous - you are all much braver and loyal than I.  
  
I will die within the month, I think. The Uruk-hai will be here soon and I am not sure I am ready to face them, especially without you. Do not let that concern you overmuch, though. I will not deny that I desperately wish for your presence here, but I will not be selfish. I truly hope your journey to the Havens is a joyous one and that you don't think too badly upon me, my brother. I do not know if I have yours, but only know you will always and forever have my friendship.  
  
Peace be with you, Legolas. Remember me.  
  
~Estel  
  
  
  
  
  
The last of the ships were built and anchored on the shore. The giant white sails billowed in the morning breeze as they caught the bright radiance of the sun. They seemed to beckon to the stationary figure on the pebbled beach.  
  
Legolas watched the hustle of the Mirkwood elves as they loaded what little they brought with them into the cabins below deck. He watched as the shores became barer as one by one, the elves boarded the great ships. He watched until, at last, he was the only one still touching the land.  
  
"Legolas!" laughed Gildurin from the railing, "You will be left behind if you don't hurry, and I won't be the one to come back and fetch you!"  
  
Legolas smiled, though it did not touch his eyes. He raised one hand in response and yelled, "Don't worry yourself, my friend, I'll come in a minute."  
  
"Oh, no, you won't, you're coming now," chided Thranduil as he made his way back down the ramp and positioned himself in front of his son. His voice turned quiet. "Come Legolas. It is time."  
  
The young elf nodded and made to follow his father as he turned to head back up the wooden ramp. He could not stop himself from pausing and looking behind him, as if hoping for something lost. ~Don't be foolish - you won't see Aragorn again. Forget it~ Forcing down the wave of sadness that descended upon him , he boarded the vessel that would take him away from Middle-Earth and away from Aragorn.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Legolas closed his eyes and tilted his face into the salty spray. He slender hands grasped the smooth railing and his feet were seemingly anchored to the deck. He had not felt so satisfied in a long while - to feel the rush of the sea was a joy he had not known existed before now. But there was something there in the pit of his stomach that interrupted his content. The nagging sense of loss from he and Estel's broken friendship gnawed at him ever more. The thought of what he was leaving behind made him feel almost sick. Suddenly, the exhilarating salt from the seawater was like acid on his tongue. The excitement of the sea faded from his mind. Sighing, he dropped his hands from the rail and turned away from the waters. It was suddenly not so appealing.  
  
Instead, he leaned his back on the railing and stroked his bow that was still in his hands. He remembered when he had given Aragorn his first archery lesson and smiled at the memory. Their meeting was a fine one, and an even finer feast afterwards. His hands ran over smooth, curved wood with an unconscious content.  
  
Suddenly, his fingers felt something rough on the smooth surface of the bow. Curious, he turned it over and looked closer. Words were engraved there - words that had long slipped from his mind and his memory. But now, he saw them with a clarity he had not known before as the words blazed in his eyes like fire. ~Estel of Rivendell~  
  
~*~*~*~Flashback~*~*~*~  
  
The sky was a painter's pallet, swabbed with blues, pinks, and reds. The sun waved her last farewells as the horizon welcomed her into its embrace. The trees that surrounded Imladris were calm and quiet as night descended upon them. Two figures were silhouetted against the dusk sky.  
  
Aragorn perched comfortably on the thick limb on a giant oak. He glanced at Legolas who was balancing easily on a thinner branch further out from the trunk. The man was sometimes envious of the elf's nimble agility.  
  
  
  
"Come, Legolas, before you fall and break something. I won't be the one to scrape you off the dirt," said Aragorn playfully.  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood stood up on the thin branch, if only to show his friend he would not fall. He rolled his eyes. "Fine, but only for your peace of mind." Then, in two graceful bounds, he landed lightly beside Aragorn and sat himself down. Long minutes of silence followed, the two companions lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Aragorn voiced the question that was on both their minds.  
  
His voice was distant when he broke the tranquil silence. "Do you think we will survive this quest, Legolas?"  
  
Legolas glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye. He was surprised sometimes - Aragorn had grown rapidly in the years since he found out about his heritage. Many seasons had passed since then, but still, no matter what Aragorn went through, he sometimes still sounded so incredibly vulnerable.  
  
"I have no doubt that we will, my friend."  
  
Aragorn smiled. "I'm glad you think so, but still -" Then the smile left his face and a look of foreboding appeared in its place. "Even though our fellowship is a strong one, I have not your confidence, I am afraid." He turned to face Legolas. "I know this seems odd to you, but -" he grew quiet.  
  
"What Aragorn?" inquired Legolas, peering closer at Aragorn's troubled eyes.  
  
"Legolas - " Aragorn calmed himself. "I know not what we will face, only that danger will be at every turn. If one of us should fall, I want you to know you are like a brother to me, and it will always be that way."  
  
Legolas stared for a moment. He had always known that he and the Ranger shared a strong friendship, but Aragorn was normally not that blunt. Before he could find a decent reply, Aragorn spoke first.  
  
"Here, Legolas," Aragorn reached across and closed the elf's fingers around the smooth object.  
  
Legolas stared at the bow in his hands in shock. Wordlessly, he traced the fine weapon and gazed in awe at the craftsmanship. His fingers traced the small words engraved in the wood. ~Estel of Rivendell~ He eyes darted up to meet those of his friend, who was looking at him quietly.  
  
"Estel, I cannot accept this. This was a gift from your brothers, and I know how much you treasure it. I could not possibly -" Aragorn's wave of dismissal silenced him.  
  
"Oh, do stop. I want you to have it," he smiled encouragingly. "This way, if are ever separated or if something happens to me, you will remember our friendship and have hope."  
  
Legolas was speechless and gawked for several minutes. Finally, he snapped from his surprised daze and, smiling suddenly, grasped Aragorn's forearm. The human returned the gesture. No more words were exchanged, nor were any needed. A silent, but clear understanding passed between them - a bond stronger than iron bands and steel springs was expressed that night as the last rays of light faded from the air.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~Flashback Ended~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Legolas stood there as the sea breeze brushed against his face, staring at the weapon in his hands. The sudden realization of his mistake slammed into him with all the power of a giant sledgehammer. A million thoughts raced through his mind as he struggled to fight his inner thoughts. The longer he gazed at that bow, the more his anger and stubbornness faded from him. In their place, self-disgust and regret arose, as well as a guilt so deep it burned him from the inside. The memories of their friendship and the bond they had shared that night - and all the nights after - came back to him in an endless flood. Finally, as he clutched the bow tighter in his hands, the pride and anger that had so recently flowed violently through his veins dissipated into nothingness. It was hard for him to believe that one object - one symbol of he and Aragorn's friendship - could so completely change reverse his feelings  
  
He sighed despairingly. That one simple memory blew his mind away and practically forced anything negative from his head.  
  
~I am such a fool. How could I let something so trivial as selfish pride take me away from a friend who needs me? Fool!~  
  
Growling in self-contempt, he tried in vain to steady his nerves. Finally, he was able to loosen his grip on Aragorn's bow. He traced the inscription again and his eyes turned sad, and mournful regret clouded his blue eyes.  
  
~Forgive me, Estel~  
  
Legolas lifted his eyes from the weapon and gazed towards land that was swiftly fading from his view. He was here while Aragorn was in Gondor about to face something he could not win. This was not right - could not be right. Legolas slammed his fist into the wooden planking below the rail.  
  
~I should be with him!~  
  
He clutched the railing of the great ship so hard his knuckles turned white. Helplessness invaded his senses as he sank to his knees. They were already on their way to the Havens and it would only be a matter of days before the Uruk-hai reached Gondor's walls. -And all he could do was sit here as he sailed away from his best friend, as he abandoned his brother to certain death. Legolas rested his forehead against the wood. There was nothing he could do -  
  
~Or is there?~  
  
Legolas' fingers dug into the soft wood of the deck as determination ignited in him like some lost flame. He held Estel's bow to his chest protectively as he stood. His eyes were hard and set with a goal he had to achieve.  
  
~I will come~  
  
He turned and spotted his father close by. As he approached the elder, Thranduil noticed the change in the atmosphere surrounding his son.  
  
"Legolas? Does something trouble you?"  
  
Legolas's voice was determined and set, "Ada - we must turn back."  
  
Thranduil stared.  
  
"Are you insane? We've already left Middle-Earth's shores! To turn back would cause a riot on these ships! I will not have our people hating their own leaders! Besides, I -" Thranduil's voice trailed off as he caught the fire in his son's eyes. They burned with such intensity, the King himself found himself speechless.  
  
He sighed. "Legolas - I do not know. I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. The people will not like it."  
  
Legolas took a step closer to his doubtful father. "Ada, please. The people will listen to you - they trust you. If you tell them to turn back, they will turn back," he said quietly, almost pleadingly. He met his father's eyes. "He needs me.."  
  
He needs me. His son's words repeated in his head. The passion and sincerity behind those simple words were stunning. He knew in his heart that if he refused to turn back, Legolas would either jump overboard and swim back to shore or would be deeply depressed for all his days. Thranduil sighed again. No matter how irrational Legolas was at times, he could not deny his only child.  
  
"Fine, Legolas - it will be as you wish. We will turn back."  
  
A look of relief broke upon Legolas' face. He bowed his head in full respect. :"Thank you, ada." With those words, he turned and disappeared into the cabins below.  
  
Thranduil was left standing on the deck, spent. ~It will by a wonderful pleasure telling everyone we're going to war~ Sighing for the third time, he went with hesitance to address his people. ." ~I'm lucky I only had one child. Another one would kill me~  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Legolas stood at the front of the deck, his eyes bright. Somehow, his father had managed to convince all of Mirkwood's former inhabitants to approve of turning back. How he had done it, Legolas would never know, but he trusted his father with everything in him. He had never been more grateful.  
  
Thranduil had organized it all, really. The three ships would all head back to Mirkwood to retrieve all armor and weaponry left behind. Legolas, however, would, once on shore, head elsewhere. Aragorn's words came back to him.  
  
~~ "Imladris and Lorien are fading, there are hardly any left there to make any army at all. My father would send all that he could, but even he is growing wary of battles and of Middle-Earth. I would never wish to cause him more grief. Rohan, even after all these years, is still recovering from Helm's Deep. The men lost and the emotional scars gained will keep them from wanting to fight another war any time soon. Gimli's kin. his personal alliance with us was only because of the Quest. The rest of his kind do not look so affectionately upon Humans or Elves, and you know they would not willingly come."~~  
  
Legolas smiled to himself despite the desperate haste he was in.  
  
~We shall see, my friend. Forgive me, Estel, for I shall be a little late. I have some persuading to do~  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood leaned forward into the wild spray, silently urging the ships to greater speeds.  
  
~I am coming~  
  
  
  
Another one done!! Like I said before, VERY RUSHED, but bear with me, mdears! One more chapter to go! 


	6. Frail

Author's Notes:  
  
Again, thanks SO MUCH for all the awesomeness coolio beanies reviews!  
  
Bemmers: INDEED! WoT is awesome, eh'? Haha, I couldn't find any curses in LotR, so resorted to WoT curses instead. =D  
  
Aislynn Crowdaughter: I totally agree. Unfortunately, half my story is rushed, makes no sense, or spacial and time factors don't actually work out right. LOL bear with me, I beg you!  
  
~*~*~*~**~  
  
  
  
Chapter 6: Frail  
  
  
  
Aragorn watched as the sun rose high in the air and beamed down brightly upon the walls of Gondor. He could see the Uruk-hai moving across the landscape, crawling steadily like an ominous shadow towards his kingdom. Within that shadow, he could make out individual faces now, so close were they - countless Uruk-hai, marching - so relentlessly marching. So ironic, that such tragedy would befall the race of men on such a beautiful morning.  
  
The former Ranger turned his head to see all his men - all five hundred and fifty-three of them - standing at the walls, watching the approaching hordes as well. Whatever hope he still had rose in the form of pride for his warriors. He and his men had toiled for days to build up sturdy walls of wood and stone behind each door. The Uruk-hai would need a week to break down any entrances into the inner city. Aragorn knew the Uruk-hai would break those doors, but his men had put all their strength into it, and he was proud. All the same, reality was there. Five hundred and fifty- three. Aragorn had counted himself and had asked all their names. He couldn't say he remembered all of them, but this way, he had at least some knowledge of each man he was leading into death.  
  
Aragorn had sent Arwen with the rest of his people into the tunnels built beneath the foundations of the city the night before. He knew though that if the walls were broken, they would be easily found. Though he knew "if" was really not in question. The real question was "when". His body stiffened as the truth of the matter drove into him like a nail. He was not preventing their deaths, only delaying them. Aragorn bit his lip until it hurt and he tasted the metallic bitterness of blood on his tongue. He didn't worry overmuch about it. After all, he knew he would be tasting a lot more of it that day.  
  
If the grief of the coming of Gondor's destruction was not enough, the sorrow of a broken bond tied him down further. Aragorn cast his eyes to the ground. It had been two weeks since he had sent Legolas that letter, and no response had come. That meant one of two things: Legolas had already sailed and was gone from Middle-Earth, or the Prince was still in Mirkwood, but hated him too much to reply. Either way pained Aragorn to the core.  
  
The King of Men leaned on the stone ramparts as a heavy sigh escaped him. The burden of this was too much - it crushed him down, buried him beneath endless miles of rubble. If only Legolas was by his side - if only his best friend was there.  
  
~At least he is safe now. At least he will not die here~  
  
Aragorn forced himself to stop thinking of Legolas and tuned his focus back to the army that approached. The ground shook with their footsteps as their snarls and yells of challenge grew louder. Aragorn had never known the true meaning of despair until this day, and he hated that feeling of complete and utter hopelessness. He did not expect to come out of this alive, and he didn't expect Gondor to prevail - not this time.  
  
With a heavy heart, Aragorn fitted an arrow to his bowstring and looked straight ahead as, along all the walls, men followed his example. The clanging and hoarse yells from below were loud in his ears now. He tried his best to shout over the noise.  
  
"First volley!'  
  
His men aimed.  
  
"Release!"  
  
The front line of Uruk-hai fell to the arrows that struck them. With snarls of rage and of pleasure at knowing how easy their victory would be, the Uruk-hai raised their weapons and surged forward in a great black mass,  
  
Aragorn notched a second arrow and fired. The battle was begun.  
  
  
  
  
  
The trees and plains and rivers flew by in a blur as Legolas raced towards Gondor. He spurred Mantua to greater speeds. Legolas was glad for the horse from Rohan; she was faster than any horse he had ever ridden, and that speed was greatly needed. He thought back to his conference in Rohan. Theoden had been adamant at first, but Legolas was particularly persuasive, especially in times of need. His thoughts drifted also to the messengers he had dispatched to Lothlorien and the Lonely Mountain and the letters they carried.  
  
Granted he did have to use a little crafty manipulation and some forging of signatures, but they didn't know that, and he could apologize later. The Prince of Mirkwood smiled inwardly - Gondor would not be alone in this, he had seen to that.  
  
"Taile` kani, Manchua, naa telme' maure. Noro lim!" Legolas whispered to his chestnut-colored stead. She tossed her head in response and sped through the woodlands.  
  
Gondor was not far, Legolas knew - his surroundings were becoming familiar. The tension was building in his stomach as he considered the peril he was racing into. The idea of turning back did not even enter his mind, though. All hesitation faded from him when only the merest vision of Aragorn flitted across his eyes. He had abandoned his brother once, he would not do it again.  
  
Suddenly, Legolas reigned in Manchua and listened closely. The ground was vibrating every so slightly and the sound of chaos was close. With heightened anxiety, Legolas booted his horse forward. An uphill climb stood before him and Mantua sped up it with all speed. When he topped the grassy knoll, his breath was taken from him at the sight that awaited him. Hordes upon hordes were upon Gondor's city walls. He could make out armored men on the stone ramparts; some were shooting arrows, others were pushing down piles and piles of stone upon the forces below, and still others tended gigantic cauldrons of boiling water on the wall edges, then tilted them to pour it on whatever unfortunate Uruk-hai were standing down there. Growling under his breath, Legolas used his elevation while he could and searched the faces of the men for Aragorn.  
  
A relieved, yet deeply concerned sigh escaped him when he found Aragorn shooting arrow after arrow into the masses. Luckily, the Uruk-hai had not yet completely surrounded the city, so the back was still somewhat open. With his keen eyesight, Legolas could make out the small side doors hidden behind mound of ivy and green undergrowth. Aragorn had always said it was hard for foes to notice them.  
  
~I come, Estel~  
  
With all haste, Legolas, dismounted Manchua and raced down the hill, not too concerned about being noticed by the Uruk-hai. A figure in greens and browns against a green and brown landscape was not too noticeable anyway.  
  
~Then again, these are altered Uruk-hai. I really ought to have warned Aragorn sooner~  
  
Legolas knelt by one small side door and inspected the lock. He smiled to himself - good thing Aragorn taught him how to open them. Legolas searched along the bottom of the wall until he found a tiny metal object, about half the size of his pinkie finger. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he stuffed the small key into the lock and jiggled it around. After a full minute, he heard a satisfying click and grinned. Legolas pushed the door open and paused to look at the door he had opened. It was a full two feet thicker than usual.  
  
~Well - at least he's protecting the inner city~  
  
Forcing the door closed again and locking it, he tossed the small key to the side and bolted up the steps before him.  
  
~Just one minute, Estel - just one minute, and I'll be there~  
  
  
  
  
  
Aragorn growled angrily as anchors were thrown over the walls. Wonderful. The ropes were thick and any man that climbed to try and cut them were shot down by watchers from below. He turned his head when a desperate shout sounded from further down the wall. The first few Uruk-hai had scaled the walls and broken through. His lips set in a thin line, Aragorn threw his bow aside and drew the ancient sword Anduril. The blade whisked from its sheath, thirsting for blood.  
  
He quickly dispatched the first Uruk-hai that appeared over the wall near him and the second as well. Though when they started coming in twos and threes, Aragorn had to try much harder to keep himself from getting sliced in half. He whirled his blade in an arc and descended it upon one Uruk-hai's skull, splitting it open. No more here. Aragorn prepared to turn to another small group of Uruk-hai nearby when something made him stop pin his tracks. Three Uruk-hai he thought had killed were rising.  
  
~What the bloody hell?~  
  
Growling in frustration and confusion, Aragorn prepared himself again. ~Since when did Uruk-hai have two lives? What trickery is this?~ From the exclamations of surprise and anger sounding around him, he knew his mean were having the same trouble. As the minutes drew on, he noticed that his men's shouts of rage and battle cries were steadily becoming cries of help and despair. His fighters were being cut down around him, and he could not stop it. It took all his strength to fight three Uruk-hai who, despite all the times he slashed them, simply refused to die.  
  
A bold Uruk-hai charged Aragorn directly with a fierce snarl. It was beheaded by Anduril, though not before it sliced Aragorn's arm. The human gasped with pain and automatically stepped back. His mistake was not looking where he was stepping, because he stumbled on a pile of shields and crashed to the ground as Anduril spun from his hands. His chest heaving, Aragorn shook the sweat from his eyes and looked up to see a Uruk-hai standing above him. In his eyes, everything was in slow motion as the creature raised its cutlass for a final fatal blow to Aragorn's body. Time was lapsed as a million thoughts raced through his head. He waited for that strike -  
  
Suddenly, an arrow embedded flew from nowhere and embedded itself in the creature's head. Without a sound, the Uruk-hai's weapon fell from its suddenly loose hands and it fell forward. His brain suddenly spurred into action again, Aragorn immediately rolled out of the way and the heavy body smashed into the rubble where he had just lain. Still not completely focused again, Aragorn lay there for a second staring at that arrow. An elven arrow. Before comprehension dawned on him, steady hands hauled him to his feet.  
  
Aragorn's entire body froze as he saw who stood before him. The elf's blonde hair was tossed lightly in the breeze and his face was streaked lightly with dirt and blood. He wore a soft smile as he thrust his bow back into its place on his back. Aragorn gaped, speechless.  
  
Legolas.  
  
As soon as coherent thought was able to enter Aragorn's head again, he spoke like he was detached from his voice.  
  
"Legolas! How in the name of the high Valar - You aren't - I mean I thought that - we're not -" senseless words poured from his mouth.  
  
Legolas shook his head and handed the former Ranger his sword. "Not now, Estel - I do believe there are some individuals here who don't like to see us alive. I suggest we get them before they get us."  
  
Deciding to save all questions for later, Aragorn nodded and spun Anduril in a figure-eight as Uruk-hai ran towards them. Aragorn parried sword thrusts and countered, spinning this way and that to avoid any foe's searching blades. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he fought, though he wasn't really thinking of the battle. Legolas' presence filled his mind. The elf had offered no explanation as to why he had returned, though Aragorn did not it to feel hope rise in him again. With renewed spirit, he fought with all the skill Iluvitar had granted him.  
  
Back to back, the King of Gondor and the Prince of Mirkwood fought. Aragorn still didn't quite understand why the Uruk-hai were being so annoyingly strong.  
  
"Legolas!" he shouted. "Be careful! I don't know why or how, but these Uruk-hai are different than what we are used to fighting. They are stronger, faster, and they just won't die like they used to!"  
  
Legolas' voice was grim. "I know. I encountered two on my way back to Mirkwood after leaving Gondor last time. It almost cost me my life to kill two of them." His voice turned apologetic. "I was going to come back and warn you, but I - eh - changed my mind."  
  
"What!?!?"  
  
"Ah - sorry?"  
  
Aragorn sighed. "None needed, Legolas, I understand."  
  
Legolas sighed gratefully. ~I really should have warned him~  
  
As Aragorn fought, he noticed that his arm that had been inured earlier was seriously affecting him. The wound was bleeding profusely and it did not help that it was his sword arm. It needed to be properly cared for or else his fighting would only be hindered further. Aragorn wasn't the only one to notice.  
  
"Aragorn, you're injured. You need to get that fixed up." Shouted Legolas above the noise.  
  
"In the middle of a battle!?" Aragorn shouted back incredulously.  
  
"Well, you aren't fighting right! You'll get killed like that!"  
  
"Thanks for your concern, Legolas, but somehow, I don't think the Uruk-hai will agree on giving me a five-minute time out!"  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes. He quickly beheaded two Uruk-hai with a double cross maneuver. Taking advantage of the lull in the battle, he grabbed Aragorn's forearm and hauled him up the first flight of stairs they came across. Aragorn resisted strongly, and Legolas had to use all of his strength to keep his friend in his grasp. Within a few minutes, Legolas spotted a dark, roomy storage space built into the side of the wall. None of the Uruk-hai had bothered coming up these stairs yet, so they still had some time.  
  
"Oh, do sit down and stop complaining," said Legolas calmly. "The more you cooperate, the less time this will take. Then, we can get back fighting and you'll be able to defend yourself better."  
  
Aragorn sighed, but sat down and leaned his back against the stone wall. He saw Legolas' reasoning, and besides, he was grateful for the medical attention he was getting. Legolas pulled a small vial from his pocket and popped off the cork. He tore a corner from Aragorn's cloak and poured a small amount of the dark liquid onto the rough cloth. He then went about cleaning the wound. Aragorn's body stiffened at the pain each time Legolas touched the wound, but he made no sound. Finally, after he had gotten used to the dull throbbing, he spoke.  
  
"I sent you a letter, Legolas."  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood didn't look up from Aragorn's injury. "Oh, did you?" -so came his absentminded reply.  
  
Aragorn nodded slowly. "Yes, though I didn't get a response. I-" he sighed.  
  
Legolas looked up. "You what?"  
  
"When I got no response, I figured you hated me too much too reply."  
  
Legolas frowned. "Come now, Aragorn, you knew I was preparing to sail to the Havens. -And you know I could never ha-"  
  
"LEGOLAS WATCH OUT!"  
  
Instinctively, Legolas threw himself to the side. A scimitar slammed into the stone where his head had been a split second before. He executed a smooth roll and was back on his feet, twin blades in his hand. Aragorn too was on his feet now, his injury forgotten and Anduril raised.  
  
The Uruk-hai rushed towards Legolas with a harsh yell, brandishing its bloodied weapon. Legolas blocked the first strike, and the second, and the third, before he could get an attack in himself. He managed to nick the creature's wrist and draw a few drops of blood, but that only served the anger it. By now, Aragorn too was upon the Uruk-hai, his sword descending on the foe in a graceful arc. The beast deflected Aragorn's attacks and spun around to kick an unprepared Legolas in his midsection. He flew across the floor, the breath knocked out of him with colors exploding in his head.  
  
Aragorn spared his friend a glance and winced when he saw that Legolas was not moving. He snapped back to attention when the Uruk-hai swung its scimitar at the human's legs. He jumped the blade before clutching the hilt of his sword hard and slamming the knife-point into his foe's chest. The Uruk-hai dropped its scimitar and clutched at the blade protruding from its body. He made a deep gurgling sound and fell to the ground, his eyes unfocused.  
  
Breathing a tired sigh, Aragorn hurried towards his fallen friend. Suddenly, something yanked him back. On his stomach and caught completely by surprise, Aragorn turned his head to see the Uruk-hai he had "killed" alive. The creature had its fingers wrapped around Aragorn's ankles. It let go and reached for the scimitar it had dropped only a minute ago. Thinking quickly, Aragorn rolled to the side and, with a strong kick, sent the weapon skimming across the floor and away from the Uruk-hai's immediate grasp. Growling in anger and frustration, it resorted to "natural means of combat". With one punch, Aragorn crashed into the wall and slid down it, his ears ringing.  
  
The Uruk-hai snickered cruely, "I don't need my weapon, human - my hands will do just fine."  
  
Aragorn gritted his teeth as the beast's fingers tightened on his throat. His vision beginning to blur, he reached into his boot for the hidden blade there. He slammed the dagger into the Uruk-hai's side. It did not kill it, but it certainly deterred it enough for Aragorn to pry the invading fingers from his throat. Still catching his breath, Aragorn searched the floor for Anduril. He cursed under his breath; the blade was in a far corner, out of his reach.  
  
By now, the Uruk-hai had retrieved its scimitar and stood in the doorway, a look of rage etched on its face. It watched as Aragorn lay on the stone ground, chest heaving, the oxygen he needed to focus evading him.  
  
The Uruk-hai chuckled. "Game over, human."  
  
  
  
  
  
Legolas opened his eyes groggily, his head still swimming. He blinked several times to clear his eyes. Suddenly, reality crashed into him like a hammer on an anvil. ~Aragorn!~ Resisting his body's protest, he pushed himself up. The sight that greeted him was not so welcoming. Aragorn lay wheezing on the floor across the room. The Uruk-hai stood shadowed in the doorway, his arm poised to throw a deadly blade. Legolas saw the Uruk- hai's mouth move, though he didn't hear what it said - his focus was elsewhere.  
  
Without even thinking, Legolas spurred himself into action. He was not even aware he was moving until suddenly, he was not in the same place he was before with his bow in hand. He had not the slightest understanding of what he was doing or why. He only felt a drive - a need - to do it. Suddenly, Legolas was in front of Aragorn, shielding him from the Uruk-hai that so harshly wanted them dead. With hands that moved quicker than sight, the elven prince notched at arrow and aimed for the creature's head. Only when the arrow was loosed did Legolas notice the blade that flew towards him. Too late did he notice. When he finally understood what he was doing, the scimitar sliced through the air.. With deadly accuracy and a fatal intention, the wicked blade struck Legolas in the chest. -But he did not feel it, and he did not care. Aragorn was safe. The world spun in dizzying circles as he felt himself fall and hit the cold floor.  
  
Aragorn couldn't truly comprehend what he saw. It took more than a few moments for reality to process into his overworked brain. When it finally did, a wrenching cry tore from his throat as he threw himself across the short distance that separated him from his best friend. The wheels in his head turning crazily out of his control, Aragorn stared in disbelief and shock at the blade in Legolas' body.  
  
"By the Valar -"  
  
Almost afraid to touch him for fear of hurting him, Aragorn gently placed two fingers near the wound. Bending closely, Aragorn inspected the blade. The truth hit him harder and brought more pain than he ever thought he could possibly feel.  
  
~No - no - no~  
  
The weapon was ridged. Pulling it out would kill him and leaving it in would kill him. Either way, the prince's life was forfeit. If Aragorn had felt helplessness at the beginning of the battle before Legolas' arrival, it was nothing compared to the twisting feeling that consumed him now. He saw the light sheen of sweat on Legolas' skin and the way the elf's jaw clenched tightly. Aragorn's best friend was dying in front of him, and he could do nothing. Despair invaded his senses as he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to close out the pain. Nothing but pain.  
  
"A - Aragorn?"  
  
Aragorn's eyes snapped open. He looked into Legolas' agonized eyes.  
  
  
  
"Shh, Legolas, stop," he scooted closer and, as gently as he possibly could, pulled the elf into his lap. "Don't exert yourself."  
  
This was not happening - it could not be happening.  
  
No, this could be fixed. Of course it could be fixed. Aragorn was in denial and he knew it.  
  
"You'll be fine, Legolas, You'll be -" Aragorn stopped, forcing himself from showing tears. He had to be strong, for himself, and for Legolas. He took a deep breath to steady his racing pulse. "You'll be alright." It came out a whisper, and sounded just as unconfident.  
  
Legolas' smile was weak. "Don't trouble yourself with lies, Estel. I- " his voice broke and he closed his eyes tightly, pain striking against him. His fingers dug into the stone in an unconscious effort to forget. He summoned all of his strength. He would not die before -  
  
"Estel.. I -I'm sorry about the fight. I should have tried harder to -" blazing needles of hot fire pierced his skin, burned through flesh and bone. "-to understand why you -" Fire. "-needed us so. I'm s-sorry."  
  
Aragorn shook his head and brushed stray strands of gold hair from the elf's face. "No, Legolas. I should not have said such harsh words to you in my ignorance of your ways. To have your forgiveness would let me fly."  
  
Legolas made no reply, though his glazed eyes shone with understanding. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Aragorn's chest.  
  
By now, Aragorn could not stop the tears that spilled from his eyes and streamed down his face. His tears fell on Legolas' pale skin. The King of Gondor brushed the sorrowful droplets from Legolas's face.  
  
"Gondor is lost. I cannot lose you, too."  
  
The elf's eyes remained close, but he replied, his voice barely audible, "No.. I don't think Gondor is lost." A confident tone was in his voice. "I think Gondor will live to see many generations."  
  
What was he saying? Aragorn didn't even care about Gondor right now. Legolas was all he saw. All he could possible see. Sorrow was like a dead weight that hung suspended in his chest, weighing him down.  
  
His voice was begging -pleading with all his soul, willing Legolas' to remain. Distantly, Aragorn could make out a new sound in the battle below. Horns. Mirkwood horns. So help had come - Aragorn didn't care anymore.  
  
He brushed his thumb repeatedly against Legolas' skin. More horns. So Rohan had come, as well. In the coarse of the next minute, three other horns blared, each one distinct. Lothlorien. Rivendell. The Lonely Mountain. So that's what Legolas had meant by Gondor being saved. Aragorn's thoughts were muddled. The happiness that he should have felt at the idea of Gondor victorious was nothing but a mere speck in the dust to him. Honestly, he could not make himself care.  
  
"Legolas.. don't leave me." Hopeless. "Please don't leave me."  
  
Blue eyes opened. Legolas tamped down the agony that arose in him and lifted one hand slowly to touch the man's weathered face.  
  
Aragorn could do nothing. All he could do was grasp Legolas' hand and hold him. The Prince of Mirkwood offered his best friend - his brother - one final reassuring smile.  
  
"Veru earda nandin ii oron atal`ta, lle anwo ematte` nin."  
  
Before Aragorn could find words to say, Legolas' eyes closed and his body grew limp is Aragorn's arms. The King of Gondor stared in disbelief and grief as his best friend died in his arms.  
  
Dimply, Aragorn was aware of a heart-wrenching cry that was resounding through the walls of Gondor. A cry that defied all mortal definition of true pain, that pulled every emotion from the soul and hurled into oblivion. A cry so agonized, it was barely human. He was not even aware it was his own voice.  
  
Down below, the Uruk-hai were being overtaken and Gondor's victory was assured. But there was no victory that night - not for Gondor's King and Mirkwood's Prince - not for a bond so tightly melded that it was so cutting when broken. It seemed to Aragorn that the Valar had a twist planned in their lives, a friendship that called for sacrifice.  
  
And Legolas Thranduillion of Mirkwood had paid it.  
  
~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~**~*~  
  
Translations:  
  
  
  
Taile` kani, Manchua, naa telme' maure. Noro lim -  
  
Run hard, Mantua, we are needed. Hurry!  
  
Veru earda nandin ii oron atal`ta, lle anwo ematte` nin -  
  
The seas will run dry and the mountains will fall, but I will never leave you.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
OKKKKK I am finally DONE! Thank goodness, this story was giving be a headache. Anyways, I'm glad some of you thought Aragorn was going to die ~ surprise is always nice =D hehehe, well tell me what you think!  
  
*** * ***  
  
COMING SOON.  
  
Predator  
  
. In response to a friendly request, Aragorn and Legolas travel to distant Carnuin. Unknown to them, they were invited for a reason - to be players in a madman's twisted "game". Now they must rely on their wits - and each other - to survive. 


End file.
